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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859290">Mute</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/malek_rami/pseuds/malek_rami'>malek_rami</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>1917 (Movie 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon Fix-It</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:19:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/malek_rami/pseuds/malek_rami</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from the war, William is different.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>William Schofield/Original Female Character(s), William Schofield/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I had never imagined that my life could change so drastically, our life; has switched so terribly. After spending all that time waiting for him to arrive with hope we’ll get back to our old routine as soon as possible were all thrown down the drain the moment I saw him. He has not been the same, I knew that right away ever since he arrived home and I saw him at the train station. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, as close as possible. His right hand moved up and grabbed onto the collar of my long gray dress. I kept my eyes shut as I searched for the familiar scent of his to inhale but it was only faintly noticeable; at least it was there. I walked him home, to his home, so he could see his mother and sisters. Despite the fact that the house was fairly close to the train station, the walk seemed way too long. Not that I minded too much, but I had felt useless. It was way too silent. He held my hand tight, really tight, and I couldn’t help but to reciprocate. That’s when I felt a long scar right across his palm move over my fist and knuckles. It felt as if there was a line of a really soft splinter, giving me some sort of feelings of wonder and fear of how did that came to happen. Just as we began approaching the front door of his mother’s house I’ve realised that we haven’t even spoken. On a few occasions I did see his lips part as if he wanted to say something but he didn’t. As we stood in the front on the gravelled road I held his cheeks gently, looking directly into his wonderful eyes, which closed soon later as he enjoyed my touch, nuzzling my left hand.</p><p>His mother thanked me for picking him up, since she had no courage in her to do so. The way Will greeted his mother wasn’t so much different than the way we held each other just thirty minutes ago. Not that I did not had my suspicions of things going differently before, I mean I could tell from the way his letters were arriving at completely random times. The dates written in the top left corners of his papers were weeks, sometimes even months away of each other. Some began with “Sorry it has been a while and I am sorry.” or “I couldn’t really make myself write to you for some reasons.”. Of course I did not mind and I understood.</p><p>His mother made him some tea as I was warming up some water for him to have a proper bath. God it must have been months for him. As I was preparing the soaps and rags in the bathroom Charlotte, his sister, approached me and said that Will started crying with the cup of tea in his hands. Worry rushed through my body for sure, but it was to be expected.</p><p>As I was helping him bathe, carefully cleaning his shoulders and back with a foamy rag, I placed a small kiss on his cheek, causing him to look me in the eyes. His soft child-like persona that I have gotten to know rather well over the years since we’ve meet was somehow seen. It may sound silly to some but I could see and feel his soul when we exchanged looks like these. “Would it be selfish of me to ask from you to speak to me?” I asked, in hopes not to push too far, but the truth to be told the silence was killing me more than I would like to admit, more than I would like to be. The silence was still pretty evident in the room, in between us. I looked at him with such passion and my mind cleared as I listened to the small drops of water tapping onto the sink as they leave from a facet from the corner of the room. My fiancé shook his head but in a really slow manner. He pulled his hands out of the warm water he was in and touched my face with his wet fingers. A slightly sadder expression was evident on his face before he opened his mouth. “I, I just really don’t know what to say.” William whispered, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as a small crinkle appeared in between his eyes, right above his nose.</p><p>I smiled, mildly, closing eyes and placing my forehead against his. Feeling some sort of content and joy knowing that he is here, he is back, back with us and that the war is finally over.</p><p>By the time I’ve helped William get clean and dressed properly, still in nearly completely existent silence, it was time for supper. We have exchanged a few nods and several yeses and nous. As the sun hid from us and the sky became dark I lit a few candles in his bedroom, right by the window which was settled right near his bed on which he was resting on. He kept his eyes closed in what seemed a peaceful manner, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine of the things he’s seeing in his head right now. Probably some things he had witnessed and experienced when he was out there, fighting for his country. Sometimes curiosity would get me, beginning to crawl around my brain, tempting me to start asking questions. But both his mother and I knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. We’ve also spoken to the girl and explained that it would be the best to not talk too much or push with words, thankfully they’ve listened. This was about to be a really long night, we’ve all had to be prepared. I’ve even told my father that the chances of me sleeping over are really high. Despite William admitting to himself of not, isolation and closeting himself from us would be a wrong choice. He needs us.</p><p>~ * ~</p><p>I could feel the sun spreading over the upper side of the bed and over my eyes like dark and warm colours on a canvas, disturbing me from the light sleep I had managed to grasp last night. As I open my eyes and extend my left arm I notice that the space in front of me is empty. Just with a turn on my other side I saw him sitting on the opened window’s cell. His bare feet probably dangling around as he was beginning to enjoy the morning sun. I couldn’t tell that by the first glance since I was facing his back. The way his muscles moved rather obviously under his white long-sleeved shirt were always interesting to look at; making me think of the early days of our relationship where he would take me hiking and sit on huge rocks. I would sit behind him and held his hand from the back, so I would observe his body the way I am now.</p><p>With care I sit up, making the wooden bed creek under me, causing him to turn around; somewhat startling him. His eyes were wide and face pale, but once he came to his senses he relaxed, just a tad, but with a small smile spreading up his cheeks.</p><p>“Did you sleep well last night?” I ask, before carefully standing up and approaching him. His palms carefully rest against my hips even though his head hangs down, as he looks at the dark wooden floor. “I do not know.” William responds, slowly moving his head back up and resting it against my shoulder afterwards. Slowly I trace my fingers up his neck, starling him a bit, most probably because they were cold. I thread the baby hair on his nape before fully stroking his light brown hair, thoroughly enjoying this such unique moment of intimacy we’re finally sharing. I could sense and hear his breathing, his nose slowly nuzzling my shoulder through the fabric of my sleeping dress. What felt as a cold rush of wind on my shoulder at first turned out to be tears. William was crying as he rested against me, now giving himself to me fully. Nearly entirety of his frame was against mine and that feeling just made me wrap my arms around him tighter, pulling him as close as humanly possible.</p><p>The breakfast was as silent as every moment so far since William’s arrival, but this time it felt more comfortable. It wasn’t filled with awkwardness, confusion or sadness, it was just us. Watching my fiancé eat was an interesting sight, because the manners in which he was consuming now are different. There are no joys or indulgent in food, food has became a small necessity that you have to go through to live. His bites were small, and despite the small quantity of the eggs he was putting in his mouth it would take him forever to chew. That also might be because his organs are just exhausted, and were not used to taking in a lot due to the fact that he had spent a lot of months, years even not eating properly.</p><p>Sometimes he would toy with the food on his plate, moving his fork around the flat white surface, placing his meats in the corner as if to separate it from the other kinds of foods. There was also something about the bread knife that was resting in the centre of the table in the small basket where the bread rested itself. He would observe it, carefully, as if it was going to attack him. Perhaps there was an incident involving a knife back there? By the time the lunch arrived both his mother and I agreed to not keep that knife on the table at all, in worry it might trigger something.</p><p>~ * ~</p><p>I wanted to read to him, I wanted to read books about the wonderful things in the world in hopes to bring his mood up, even by a little bit. That evening he rested his head on my lap as I was whispering the words from by beloved book. I was stroking his short locks with one hand as the book rested in the other. It felt blissful to observe him rest like that, with his eyes closed and his cheek slightly nuzzled up my clothed thigh. His facial expressions changed every few minutes, figuring it was most probably something similar happening in his head as it did this morning.</p><p>His expression suddenly switched from peaceful to disturbed and he sat up quickly, causing me to close my book and set it aside on the table in front of the couch us both were seated on. William definitely looked disturbed, small droplets of sweat gathering on the tips of his temples as he looked at me in distress. In a patient manner, I’ve extended my hand towards him so I could hold his, gently caressing his knuckles with my thumb. “Everything is alright, I promise you.” I say silently, still looking at his face.</p><p>He lets out a low sigh before running through his hair the hand I was not holding. With a slightly tilted head and a mild expression he whispers, as if to himself “It’s not the right now I am upset with, but with what happened.”</p><p>Once I’ve slowly gotten myself closer to him, carefully I wrap my arms around his body. Allowing his head to rest against my shoulder again. His left hand rests on the top of my lap as his other is wrapped around my neck. “I am so sorry darling, I am so sorry.”</p><p>Getting used to the new part of William that came with the war is something that all of our families will have to get used to. But oh it’s so worth it. Every single moment spent with him in any way; whether it is as intimate and deep as this one or silly and child-like like before the war, is so meaningful, to us both. Each look we share, touch, word and a kiss, shows the sheer simplicity of love. Love doesn’t have to be complicated as we may think it is or it may appear so from the outsider’s perspective. The moment he kissed me on that February evening of 1914 I simply knew I was with him for a long run.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you have enjoyed reading this. I had published this on tumblr first a few months back (@malek-rami)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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